Resistance: The Driver
by Miles Depth
Summary: A Resistance Series spin off; this story will follow the exploits of Fiona during one of the time gaps that take place in Resistance Futile. It will be told purely from the perspective of an OC who quickly finds himself wrapped up in the criminal underworld.
1. Chapter 1

Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he strode down the long desolate drive. The sound was as clear as it ever had been. At the end of his rocky road of Dorian gray stones lay an oversized shed.

With another deep inhale, Marcus helped himself to the countryside air, knowing full well it might be the last breath of it. Easing into an exasperated sigh he, the sixteen-year-old reached for the lever on the massive French doors. Just as he began to step into its shadow, something pulled him from the blackness back into a world that existed outside his memories.

"You day dreaming, kid?" someone called out from behind him.

"No sir," came his response as he locked the industrial grade dishwasher into place.

Before the man could even question him, Marcus had flipped the switch and in a matter of seconds the air was filled with the humming's of jets of water and whirring pumps. A far cry from the ocean, but strangely reminiscent.

"Funny," his boss shouted over the noise, "looked an awful lot to me like I was paying you to stand there and do nothing."

"You pay people while they're on their smoke breaks," he commented back.

"Law says I got to do that. Doesn't say Jack about having to indulge whatever fantasies are going on up here," the man said as he prodded the kid's temple with a finger.

"I guess I'll just have to take it up then," Marcus proclaimed as he reached into his manager's breast pocket and procured a cigarette.

"You can't just do that to get a break."

"Sure I can," Marcus replied as he walked towards the back door. "It's like you said, the lays you got to."

He could feel the man's eyes burning into the back of his skull as he stepped out into the alley way. Capital city was nothing like where he grew up. It was fifthly, gritty, and everything wrong with the world, which was perhaps why he loved it so much.

Because his boss was watching so closely, Marcus made the grand gesture of asking one of his colleagues for a light. Without so much as a glance one of them thrust the flame of his lighter in his direction.

The small drag he took was nothing more than illusion to create the effect he was in fact smoking. Marcus had no desire to do so, but if it got him out of the hot and cramped quarters of the hotel kitchen, then so be it.

Washing dishes wasn't what he had in mind for himself, but his decision making up to this point had been a bit rash. Even he was willing to admit that now. Things were not nearly as easy as they seemed, and making it big time in the city was perhaps not as straight forward as he had assumed. However, giving up on being his own man wasn't something he was willing to to do just yet. Marcus would die rather than endure the smug look of everyone who would tell him 'I told you so'.

"Ten minutes," his manager mouthed through the safety glass on the door.

Marcus shrugged him off. Jobs like this were a dime a dozen and didn't pay enough to live in the city anyway. Losing it was the least of his concern. Instead he focused on how best to fake smoking as he clung to the filter with the edge of his lips. It was surprisingly hard to do over the ruckus of the nearby banter in a language he didn't understand. However, their intermittent laughter finally pried his attention away. Following the gaze of the three bellhops he found their source of amusement.

Some poor sod was trying rather unsuccessfully to back a town car out of one of the many garages that lined the alley. What should have been easy, this man was making look especially difficult. It wasn't challenging find the humor in this, especially after the driver manager to scrape the bumper along the wall.

Marcus watched with interest as a gray-haired man got out of the back. His stride conveyed his annoyance with a sharp snap in his heels. Knocking on the window the well-dressed man waited until the driver rolled it down.

"Get out," was all the old man managed.

His driver hesitated, attempting to apologize.

"Get out," the man demanded again, "so I can find someone who hasn't spent the day drinking."

Based on the driver's performance that wasn't a stretch. There was enough room in this alley for two cars to pass each other in most places, never mind preform basic maneuvers.

Reluctantly the driver removed himself from the vehicle, a downtrodden look strewn across his face.

"Have a seat in back Hairy," the man demanded. "We can have a discussion about your continued employment just as soon as I find us a new driver."

Turning, the old man locked eyes with anyone who would meet his gaze.

"You lot laughing it up over there, any of you know how to drive?"

The question seemed to shut up Marcus' comrades. In fact, they immediately found other places to be and things to do. He had never seen them so eager to return to work. Moments later Marcus found himself sitting outside all alone on his first smoke break, or well almost alone.

"What about you, kid?" the man sighed reluctantly. "I mean you barely look old enough to have a license, but I'm in a bit of a jam."

Marcus flicked his cigarette into the gutter and hopped to his feet before meeting the man's eyes. The others seemed afraid of him but he had the luxury of not knowing any better.

"So what is it, kid? Do you know how to drive? Yes or no?"

"Mobians have tails?" Marcus answered snidely as he strolled past the man and peered inside the driver seat.

It was a pretty sweet ride as far as things went. It was an older model town car, but it wasn't hard to tell there was a V8 under the hood. It may have been designed for comfort, but Marcus knew this thing would move if it had to.

"Marcus," the kitchen boss shouted, "what did I say about ten minutes?"

He shrugged again before getting in the driver seat and shutting the door.

The man's insults grew dull now that he was on the inside what had to be the most soundproof car he had ever experienced.

Before the passenger door snapped shut behind him the old man was already barking orders at him, "We're already late and I need to be at 6th and Spur in 10 minutes."

Marcus nodded. It wouldn't be easy, but it was possible. Putting the car in gear he quickly corrected his predecessors mistakes.

"And because you're new, I'll let you in on a secret," the man laughed to himself, "the driver usually ensures his client is seated and comfortable before seating himself."

He smiled a big smile at the rearview mirror hoping the man would see it. Marcus wasn't a driver… or well at least not this kind, but it sure beat the hell out of washing dishes.

In a manner, not so different than home, Marcus was treating red lights as mere suggestions as opposed to law. It made traversing the twenty-five city blocks considerably easier this time of night. Of course, there were no shortage horns, but that came with the territory of driving like you owned the city.

"Hairy," the old man began after a long bout of silence had stewed in the car. "In a few minutes I'm going to get out of this car so I can attend a very important meeting, and after that I never want to see you again. Am I clear?"

Marcus watched as the man he now suspected was Hairy nod vigorously.

"I'm not one to forget loyalty or service, but I won't tolerate your personal problems getting in the way of my aspirations. You've been a good driver, dare I say it a friend, but that ends tonight. If I tolerate this behavior any longer it's going to get one us killed."

"Thank you, sir." The man replied somberly.

 _Who is this guy?_ Marcus asked himself. _And is he threatening to kill this guy?_

"Good, I'm glad we could come to an understanding. And as for you young man, was that your boss you were running from back there?"

Marcus nodded.

"Do you always run from a fight?" the gray-haired man asked.

"A fight?" the kid laughed, "No, just annoying people."

To his surprise, the old man chuckled almost uncontrollably before replying, "I'll keep that in mind."

A few more moments of silence passed between them before he continued, "If you do well you won't have to worry about him when you get back."

Marcus immediately felt a wave of trepidation pass over him, _what does he mean I won't have to worry about him? What's he going to do to my boss?_

"Park right out front," his passenger requested sternly.

"It's a fire lane," he pointed out, "I can't stay there."

The man began to laugh again, "you'll be fine," he assured him through a chuckle.

When he pulled to a stop his passenger cleared his throat rather loudly after a few moments of inactivity.

It took Marcus a moment to put things together. Doing his best to hold back a sigh, he unfastened his seat belt and got out. There was no question this was an odd sight to behold. A teenager wearing a dirty apron parked in a fire lane was opening the door for a man four times his senior wearing a three-piece English suit in one of the most glamorous parts of town. The juxtaposition of everything was surreal.

"That'a boy," he smiled before turning to face the other passenger. "Have a good night Hairy."

"You as well, sir."

With that, the two men parted ways, leaving Marucs alone holding a door open to an empty car. _This night is past weird,_ he deiced before shutting the door and returning to the driver seat.

It was dull sitting there on his own, made even worse by the fact he had no idea if he was getting paid for this. The radio presets were past lame ranging from late night talk shows to smooth jazz and he couldn't be bothered to scrub through the channels to find something he liked. Instead Marcus opted to suffer in silence as he watched the traffic float by, or almost all the traffic.

Just as he suspected one of Capital City's finest pulled up behind him. A uniformed officer stepped out of his cruiser and approached. The copper appeared surprised to see a kid sitting in the front seat but tapped his knuckle on the window all the same.

Reluctantly Marcus found the button and rolled down the window, "look officer," he began, but the man cut him off.

"Where's Hairy?"

Marcus was stunned and the look on his face probably said as much. Glancing to the back where the man was sitting only twenty minutes ago and back to the officer he answered, "well… he uhh… I guess he got fired?"

The officer nodded, "Makes sense. Poor guy. It was only a matter of time with his drinking problem. Although you can't really blame him after what happened to his family, you know?"

Marcus just nodded, more confused than ever as to what was going on here.

"So, you his replacement?"

"I… yeah… maybe…. I just kind of got roped into this."

"That's how it works with Nagus. One minute you're no one, next minute you're still no one but with a much larger pay check. He sees things in people that they don't see in themselves."

That was a lot to unpack for the kid. First was the name Nagus. He had been living in the city long enough to hear of him and know of the man and what he was. Marcus was starting to understand why all his colleagues bowed out so quickly. Rumor had it the crime lord was ruthless with a capital 'r'. And that certainly helped explain a lot of the conversation that had occurred in the car. What he had imagined was a threat was indeed a threat. Marcus gulped. He had just become the impromptu driver of the most well-known crime lord in the world? To make matters worse was talking to an officer of the law while in the driver seat of his car.

 _What could go wrong?_

The paycheck however, gave him some optimism. The copper had mentioned a payday, and that was what lured Marcus to city after all. A chance to make a name for himself, to prove he didn't need his family to be someone.

"What's he see in you? Marcus asked out of genuine curiosity.

He could only assume this copper was on Nagus' payroll. _Why else would he know his driver by name and check up on him?_

"Loyalty maybe," the officer answered mulling the question over, "or rather lack thereof in my case," he laughed. "There's something captivating about him… and well the fear. Once you're in bed with him, there's no leaving, so buckle up kid," the copper answered before tapping the roof of the car loudly and walking away.

For the better part of the next hour Marcus fought the urge to take a nap by memorizing down to the second the light pattern of the intersection in front of him. However, just as the cross street light was about to turn green a rather audible argument broke out in the Blue Oyster. It was an upscale place, the kind that required even their dishwashers to have at least five years of experience, the kind that the crime bosses of the world because they knew the guy that owned it and maybe even did him a favor once upon a time.

Marcus could see some silhouettes arguing on the other side of the glass. The candle lit room was hard to peer into, even at night. But what was unmistakable was the sound of gunshots and screams. In a matter of seconds the restaurant began to clear and one of the first ones out the door was Nagus.

Marcus made an effort to try and get to his door before the old man, but he was having none of it, "not now, someone is trying to kill me."

 _Of course they are._

Marcus let the man tend to himself as he assumed what appeared to be his new role of getaway driver. He would have been lying if he hadn't day dreamed about it more than a handful of times, but now that the moment was hear he wasn't sure he was ready for it.

"Did you not hear me?" the old man yelled, "Our President is trying to kill me. If you wouldn't mind…"

Reaching for the shifter, Marcus tried to ignore the bit about the President trying to kill his first client.

 _Of course Nagus would be dinning with the President._ Their new and rather rotund leader was vocal to say the least. _But why is he trying to kill you… in public?_

Marcus tossed it into drive and planted his foot, racing for the intersection. The light would be green in three seconds, not that he cared one way or the other.

"Where to?" he asked nervously.

"You can start by losing the people following us."

Glancing at his mirror it wasn't difficult to spot that two sedans following them.

"Those are Tadis," Marcus lamented. "Even if they're bad drivers it's going to be tough to lose those. I mean those things have like 600 horse power."

"What's your name kid?"

It was odd he hadn't thought to ask up until now, but then again, the entire night was the very definition of odd.

"Marcus."

"Well Marcus, I don't recall asking your opinion on whether you could lose the people chasing us. I only recall telling you to lose them."

He was starting to see why people both respected and feared this man. He didn't mince words.

"You might want to buckle up…"

Fate was an odd thing. How had he landed in this seat at this moment?

Inhaling deeply, Marcus let his instincts take over. Ripping the wheel to the left he careened down a small street weaving through the tightly packed traffic with the precision of a world class racer. Even as he stared down a red light, the kid didn't blink as he passed through the opposing traffic unscathed.

Just as he suspected, the car moved. It's V8 worked as advertised humming beautifully as it propelled them down one of the cities boulevards. Looking at his mirrors he could see the subtly curved headlights of his pursuers.

"Not bad," Marcus whispered to them, "but about this?"

The kid slammed on his breaks and rammed the shifter into reverse before thrashing the gas pedal again. In a matter of seconds, they were going backwards, and fast.

"What in the hell are you doing?" the man in back screamed.

Marcus ignored him as he zeroed in on his target. It was a simple game of chicken.

 _They always swerve in the movies._

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry when not just one but both Tadis swerved to avoid him at the last possible moment. Ceasing on his success Marcus spun the car around in the most violent reverse one eighty he had ever performed. His passenger, having not headed his advice to buckle up, thrashed about in the back as he struggled to stay in an upright and seated position.

Back in drive he opened the car all the way up, generating as much of a lead as he could. It took them a rather long time to turn around in the congested streets, which bought him enough time to turn down an alley and then back onto another street where he again planted the pedal to the floor. When he felt he had built up enough speed Marcus killed the ignition and coasted on the remaining speed, weaving himself into the busiest traffic he could find.

"You can't possibly be considering stopping here."

Marcus knew by now it wasn't a question, but he didn't care. He was good at this and had spent plenty of his summers losing the local coppers in stolen cars.

"Just stay down," Marcus snapped back.

Nagus relented and ducked low just as the two Tadis tore past them in the bus lane.

Those idiots were looking for his tail lights, but with the car off and costing in the nearly stopped traffic they would fly past him without a second thought until they latched onto some other poor saps car that just happened to look like his. Marcus wished he had this type of traffic back home, it made disappearing into a crowed a lot easier.

"They're gone?" came a question.

"Seems that way."

"Good. Then we'll still have time to run some errands."

"Errands?" the kid asked as he started the car back up.

The man nodded.

"And as for you," he continued, "no more lying."

Marcus stared at the man through the mirror confused.

"When I asked you if you could driver why wasn't your answer that you would be the best damn driver I will ever see?"

"Why say it when you'll say it for me?" the kid grinned.

The man laughed through his accent, "you're an odd one, Marcus."

He wanted to perceive that as a compliment but wasn't sure one way other. To keep up their charade Marcus followed the flow of traffic just in case a Tadi circled back around. Running was the easiest way to be spotted. It was the equivalent of admitting guilt.

"I can't believe that bastard tried to kill me again?"

"Sounds like a nice guy."

"He's a fat tub of lard is what he is."

"How was your dinner?" Marcus changed the subject, asking the question he imagined drivers asked of their clients.

"Still the best place in town, but then again I own it, so I might be a bit biased."

"I doubt that. I've heard plenty of people who would agree."

"You don't need to flatter me."

"Not trying to, just speaking my mind."

Nagus snorted, "that's almost refreshing."

"Glad you think so, sir."

"A bit thick now don't you think?"

"Maybe," Marcus agreed. "But I mean you get to dine with the President."

"Believe me, Kintobor is more of a crook than I am, and that's saying something."

"Is that why he tried to kill you?"

Nagus laughed, "I suppose, although he would never admit to it. I'm sure whoever he hired this time has a colorful past that is related to everyone and everything but him. But that's why I had one my best watching the place tonight. They know how to read a room and spot the bullshit that doesn't belong."

This was night like every spy movie Marcus had watched rolled up into one, the only difference was he was living it. _But wait… what side am I on if I'm driving around a bad guy?_

"Speaking of which, I would like you to stop and pick her up."

"Her?" Marcus asked somewhat surprised.

The man nodded. She's not one to trifle with. Has a deeper hatred for Kintobor than I do."

 _Nagus sure knows a lot of nice people,_ the kid joked to himself.

"Pull over here."

Without hesitation Marcus worked his way to the curb and put the car in park.

There was a brief interlude of an unmuted city and a rush of stale urine stained air interrupted his thoughts as one of the back doors opened. Marcus didn't pay his newest passenger much mind. Her features were hidden in a reddish shadow that seemed to meld into the black leather.

"Fiona, Marcus, Marcus, Fiona," the old man said as if out of requirement.

She nodded in his direction and he hers.

"Now if you wouldn't mind, please take me home."

"Of course," he responded before adding, "where's home?"

"Out in Kings. Chester St."

It was a thirty-minute drive, even at this time of night.

"So… Fiona," Marcus began trying to entertain his newest rider, "uhhh what do you do?"

It was a dumb question considering Nagus had just told her exactly what she did.

An exceptionally young voice responded, but not to him, "He's new huh?"

"Found him just in a nick of time. Hairy wouldn't have gotten me through this tight spot, but this lad seems to know his way around the wheel."

"Do you trust him?" she asked as if he weren't sitting in front of her.

She sounded no more than a year older than he was. _How did a girl get caught up in this?_ Then again, he could ask the same of himself.

"As much as I trust anyone else."

Marcus took that to mean the old man trusted no one.

"You don't sound very old to be…" the kid began.

"To be what?" she snapped back. "And you don't seem much older…"

"Seventeen" he answered unfazed and somewhat proud.

"Good for you, you're not the youngest one in the car by a whole year."

"And you can do math."

"Children," Nagus sighed. "Please. You're professionals, act like it."

Marcus hadn't thought of himself as a professional of anything, but he wasn't one to turn away a comment, even a back handed one.

"Sorry, boss," the girl responded.

Marcus was chuckling to himself as he tried to figure her out. There was a distinct charisma to her, an unwavering confidence combined with something deeper and more fragile. She was different than most girls his age, the kind he might actually want to spend time with. Unlike all the other city girls, she wasn't predisposed with trivial social problems, instead she was living a very real life. Marcus had already decided long ago that he was not into high maintenance anything. Who ever was in the back seat was not only capable of teasing him back, but taking care of themselves.

What little light the darker alleys offered were unable to help him decipher if the girl's looks matched her rather mysterious personality. He traced the shape of her body from her hips all the way to her long flowing red hair. Marcus was finding it harder and hard to keep his eyes from exploring her instead of the road.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I don't run into a lot of girls like you," he replied plainly.

A grin found it's way up her face as she began to wag her tail.

 _She has a tail!_ Marcus nearly screamed before accidentally tapping the breaks much harder than he intended.

"You look surprised," she commented.

That was an understatement.

"I just thought you were…"

"Human?" she suggested.

Marcus nodded.

"You're all the same," the Mobian muttered under her breath.

It had been a long time since he had seen a Mobian. They were common further outside the city, but only the rural parts away from the wealthier suburbs he had grown up in. Marcus was as curious as he was shocked that Nagus had referred to her as one of his best. The fact that she was younger than him and shorter by over a foot made her a questionable choice for an enforcer. Being a Mobian must have either made up for a lot of that or only complicated things further, and at this point Marcus was too afraid to ask.

"I just pictured someone a little different when Nagus mentioned he had some of his best mussel watching the place. No offense or anything."

Her glare softened a bit as she spared a glance at her box to see if he would contradict the statement.

"Don't let it go to your head," he conceded. "I trust you to get jobs like these done, and you do. Just don't go disappointing me."

"Wouldn't dream of it, boss," she grinned, letting a gleaming white canine hang over her bottom lip.

In the long silence that followed Marcus fought off exhaustion the way one does a kitten. It wasn't difficult but its sharp teeth and claws were annoying. His mind had fully assumed his role, on an ever-vigilant lookout for anyone or anything that might do the three of them any harm. The kid realized he had managed to wrap himself up in something quite a bit bigger than he intended, and with it came the responsibility of making sure he lived long enough to see whatever rewards may come from it.

What he now suspected was a wolf seemed equally concerned. Her eyes darted to and from his mirrors scanning the surrounding for tails that didn't belong to her. If he didn't know better the Mobian could see through the back of her head.

"Just here, my lad," the man said pointing over his shoulder.

Marcus slowed the car to a stop and put it in park. He did not need to be reminded a second time of his duties. Promptly the kid scrambled from his spot in the driver seat and opened the door for the old man.

"A quick learner," Nagus laughed. "Now, as for the morning… I expect you here not a minute later than 7:30. Do I make myself clear?"

 _Is this my job now?_

"You look confused, my boy. Did you not think you passed your interview?"

"I didn't know I had one."

"Tomorrow," the man said before turning to leave. "7:30."

"Of course, sir."

And like that the man disappeared into the night leaving Marcus to wonder why he felt compelled to go through with this. In the course of a couple of hours he had gone from being a nobody dish washer to the driver of the most notorious crime lord in the city.

"He likes you," a voice said cooly right into his ear, startling him to the point he nearly screamed.

"Man, you're quiet," Marcus said loudly in place of yelp, trying to hide the hair on his arms standing on end.

Turning to meet her gaze he finally got a chance to take in her full form. The pointy ears he had spied through his rear view mirror in fact belonged to a fox, which made sense given her smaller stature. The vixen's tail was among the bushiest he had ever seen in his life, its fur doused in a crimson that could have been blood. The rest of her was concealed beneath black leather and denim.

 _Why couldn't you be human,_ the kid lamented to himself.

"Comes with the territory," she responded circling him slowly, sizing him up. "Why are you afraid of me?"

 _You're a hired hitman…? hitwoman…? hitmobian?_

"I'm not," he insisted despite the fact he was.

Not only was she a Mobian, she had earned Nagus' trust for doing all sorts work that he thought best not to ask about.

"Your heart rate says otherwise."

 _How can she possibly hear that?_

"You can't just go sneaking up on people, you might startle them."

The fox shrugged unconcerned, "I sneak up on people all the time."

This was a game to her, but Marcus didn't know the rules.

"Why does he like you so much?" she pressed. "I've never seen him like that with anyone, take to them so quickly."

"What about you? He seems pretty nice to you too."

"I'm just someone he calls when he needs things done."

"Then it seems we are now the same," Marcus answered before getting back into the driver seat of his car and snapping the door shut.

The fox intrigued him, but he didn't have time for this. Right now he wanted to get some sleep so he could try an pretend to be awake when he arrived tomorrow morning.

"I don't think we're all that much alike," she answered. "I'm a Mobian, remember?"

Somehow the fox was already sitting in the passenger seat.

"Okay, how the hell did you do that?"

 _I'm starting to understand why she might be good at her job._

"Do what?"

 _She hasn't answered a question all night, Marcus. Why did you think she would start now? She's a teenager, like you, and she's a Mobian. A stubborn combination if their ever were one._

"Never mind. What do you want?"

 _Everyone wants something._

"A ride."

Marcus sighed before letting his forehead hit the steering wheel, "I'm not even sure if I'm allowed to say no to you."

Fiona smiled, "you could try."

* * *

This is a little side project I started to help keep my interest in this series up. No idea what I'm going to do with it yet. All of it will be told through Marcus' perspective.

M.D.


	2. Secrets

_What had it been,_ he asked himself from the safety of his mind. The fox's gaze seemed inescapable, constantly searching him for new clues on how to read and manipulate him. Marcus glanced at the dash towards the clock, _four hours?_ His tired mind tried to do the match. _No, hardly three._

"Midtown," the vixen whispered in his ear softly.

Her proximity sent a shiver down his spine. If he didn't know better he could feel her whiskers on his ear. Slowly he turned his gaze, stopping when he got lost in the soft blue abyss of the orbs staring back at him, their vertically elongated pupil still probing into what felt like his soul. Fiona was kneeling on the passenger seat, knuckles resting on the center council where she balanced the weight of her slender form so she could lean in closer than he cared for. Marcus was doing his best to show her he wasn't afraid, but at this point he wasn't fooling anyone, including himself.

"Please," Fiona continued with a sly smirk.

"What's in it for me?"

 _Never do anything for free,_ the kid reminded himself of the words his grandfather had told him hundreds of times growing up, and as best he could tell, he didn't owe the fox anything.

The fox folded her arms, somewhat surprised at his resistance, "What do you want?"

Money was the easy answer, but this was a rare opportunity, one most people wouldn't see for its true value.

"A favor," he replied readily.

"What kind?" her voice grew skeptical.

It was the next best thing from getting a favor from an actual mob boss, with the added benefit of being able to lord it over her.

"I don't know yet," he was equally quick to reply, "part of me just wants the satisfaction of you owing me one."

 _Two can play this game._

"Fine. I'll owe you one," the fox shrugged as if it wasn't that big of a deal.

It was Marcus' turn to search her for clues. He did not consider himself an expert on reading Mobian expressions, but the tone in her voice seemed genuine enough for him to at least turn the key.

"Midtown's a big place," he proclaimed as he slid the shifter into gear.

"You know the diner on the corner of 8th?"

"Sure, who doesn't?"

She nodded forward as if to command him.

 _Not exactly the talkative type._

With a sigh, Marcus took his foot of the break.

Kings was well out of the way of the rest of the city, but it did have the odd advantage of being quieter. Marcus floated between lights, often the only car for several blocks. He couldn't help but steal an occasional glance at the creature next to him. There was little doubt she was aware of his intermittent stare, but he didn't care, Mobians were foreign to him, especially this one.

"You know," Fiona began, breaking the tiny bubble of silence between them, "you smell almost as bad as you look right now."

Marcus rolled his eyes as he readied some quip about wet dogs, wondering if that would be too offensive for a fox. As much as he wanted keep up the banter, he didn't feel the need hit below the belt.

"Dish washer, right?" the vixen continued.

The kid nodded in reply, "what gave it away?"

"You mean aside from that apron that smells of mildew from never being properly dried or cleaned? Your hands, they're still a bit red up just past your wrist from constantly dipping them in sink filled with hot water."

Marcus met her eyes momentarily before returning them forward.

"So, am I right?

He had noticed the redness on his hands plenty of times, but in the pale moonlight of an almost overcast night his out stretched hand appeared to be the same bland pale color as the rest of his arm. With quick glance at the road, Marcus angled his chin down and did his best to inhale deeply thru his nose. There wasn't much to take in, maybe just a few hints the lavender that laced into the soap he had been using earlier.

The fox giggled at him, "you're very strange, Marcus."

 _Yeah… I'm the strange one here…_

"You're very… observant," he countered as reached behind his back to undo the knot holding the apron's waistband.

"You need to be when you do what I do."

After pulling the neck strap over his head, Marcus wadded it up into a ball.

"Like how you spotted the hit man?" he asked as he tossed the stale garment out his window.

"Sure," she shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "Guys that are packing heat always have tells, because they're trying to keep it a secret. Most of them walk a certain way, favor one side of their body of the other, keep their jacket zipped or buttoned when it shouldn't be. There's a million ways to spot someone with a gun, but the first step is to spot the person with secret. What's your secret, Marcus?"

The kid wasn't entirely sure, there were several, but nothing noteworthy. Marcus was beginning to wonder if she had latched onto something about him that was now driving her curiosity.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," he said with a smile.

The vixen grinned, letting her canines hang well below her lip, "now I'm starting to see what Ixis sees."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know, but it seems you don't want to share," the fox answered before pausing. "What's driving you?"

Marcus remained silent while he focused on piloting the car down the quiet city streets. He wasn't sure how to explain that to her. It was as simple as it was complicated.

"Ixis is strangely attracted to individuals who have a purity in their motivations," she continued. "A lot of the people who work for him have an absolute commitment to something that he can leverage for his own gain."

"So you're saying he's using me?"

"Are you getting what you want?"

"I don't really know yet… maybe?"

"So, if you do, then it's mutually beneficial, or at least I know it is for me."

"Why? What do you get?"

"What do I get?" the vixen snorted. "How many Mobians do you see in Capital city these days? Do you have any idea how difficult it is for someone like me to call this place home? You might take it for granted that you can pick yourself up and move here, but I don't and never will."

Marcus had never recalled sharing with her that he had moved here, further unsettling his nerves.

"So you get a nice pay check," Marcus sighed.

"No, I don't. What I get is the ability to be feared. Most people run when they see me. Even a hint of my presence and they're backing away tail between their legs. My guess is your new enough to not know any better because otherwise I doubt you would be as nice to me as you have been."

 _So that's how she figured that out._

"I mean, aren't most people afraid of Mobians anyway? No offense or anything, you are scary."

Fiona chuckled, "People are only afraid of us because the news says Mobians will hurt them."

"Are you going to hurt me?"

"I have better things to do."

"So then why should I be scared… why should anyone be scared of you?"

"You don't get it," she said thru a yawn, "but you will. It's not just me they're afraid of, it's the man I represent. And pretty soon that will extend to you too. Just wait, you'll see it in their eyes, the fear. They all worry that one wrong word to you could earn them the ire of the most famous crime lord this city has ever seen. Friends, family, won't matter. They'll see him when they look at you. I would be lying if I said it doesn't get lonely, but I almost prefer it that way now."

 _Is that why she's become so talkative? Is she lonely?_ Marcus longed to ask, but was still a bit timid about testing the boundaries of this new friendship.

Gently depressing the break, the kid brought the car to a stop at the opposite corner. He eyed the annoying red neon sign before speaking up, "You hungry?"

"Not really," the fox lamented.

"What do you want with a diner then?"

"The atmosphere," she smiled back at him before opening her door.

Marcus realized he had missed an opportunity to better understand his newest coworker. Rather than stew on the regret he rolled down the window and called after her, "Fiona!"

She stopped and waited her ears twitching, eagerly anticipating whatever words that might follow. "What drives you?" he asked.

Marcus couldn't help but wonder what unadulterated emotion was at the heart of her determination, the one Ixis sought to harness and make his own. How hard had this feeling driven her to overcome every odd, every adversity to succeed in place that practically demanded she fail?

"That's easy she replied," her tail wagging as if she had anticipated the question, "revenge."

The kid gulped as he watched her shadow melt into flickering light of the crimson neon sign hosted prominently above the diner.

 _It's like she has a red shadow,_ the kid mused to himself as he turned off the car.

He couldn't help but feel this was an odd place to come, let alone in the middle of the night. After all the talk of how unaccepting of her kind this city was, Fiona had decided to wander into one of the considerably more human parts of town. Unless she knew someone in there, Marcus could only assume she was looking for trouble.

In an attempt to put his own observation skills to work, the kid affixed his eyes to the vixen for any clues he could glean through the storefront windows. There wasn't much to take in. The fox had found a seat at the counter, her arms crossed as she leaned over a fresh cup of coffee. There were plenty of stares batted her way, but none that dared to linger more than a few seconds.

 _Did she really make me drive her across the city so she could get a cup of coffee,_ Marcus sighed before sinking into the cushy leather of his driver's seat.

Even his old job rarely saw him up this late. It was pushing three in the morning, and he had to be up and ready to work in just a few hours. Without much resistance, his eyelids grew heavy, and his previously keen attention to detail began to wane. It wasn't until the sound of a car door snapping shut jolted him from his groggy state did he regain his alertness.

Marcus had expected to find a fox in the seat next to him, grinning all the way to her pointy ears with the smug satisfaction of having snuck up on him again. Instead he found nothing. It didn't take his wondering eyes long to stumble across a man in his side mirror.

Business looking men in long coats were not an unusual site in this part of the city, or at least they weren't during more normal hours. This time of night, the attire made him alarmingly suspicious. Pausing outside of his car to check his appearance in a windows reflection, the man unfolded his collar into a high cowl, further obscuring his face.

 _First identify the person with the secret_ , Marcus reminded himself. _This guy definitely has a secret._

Rather than sit around and watch, he felt obligated to give Fiona a heads up. Somehow Marcus doubted this was a coincidence. Grabbing the keys before exiting his own vehicle, the kid nodded a friendly smile at the stranger before burying his hands in his pocket and making a light dash for the diner. The stains on his white shirt and checkered pants would make him look like a cook that was late for their night shift.

The bell above the door jingled as he entered the warmer more fragrant air. Unlike the kitchen he worked in, he could tell these people knew how to cook. The famous smells of night time delicatessen filled his nostrils begging him to try what he suspected was pecan pie.

Ignoring his desires, he took a seat at the counter a couple stools down from Fiona. The look on her face suggested she wasn't amused, but he did his best to ignore that as he subtly motioned towards the door. Offering little more than a roll of the eyes, the fox went back to staring at her reflection in the black coffee before her.

"Keep your wits about you, boy," a gruff man dressed not so dissimilarly than himself said as he put an empty cup and saucer in front of him, "they bite."

The kid took a moment to look over his shoulder at the mysterious man who had just entered. He was still as much of an enigma as he had been outside.

"I'm not worried just so long as it doesn't get hair in my food," Marcus replied loudly enough for everyone to hear.

He had little doubt that would have produced a scowl on the vixen's face, but was entirely too scared to look. Marcus needed to people to believe he didn't know her, and so far he suspected it was working.

The man nodded, "what'll it be then?"

"Just the coffee for now."

At this point he was going to need a few more anyway. The morning was getting closer and closer while the prospect of sleep seemed to slip out of his grasp all together.

The cloaked man ducked into the booth at the far corner of the restaurant, his eyes darting from side to side.

 _This guy sticks out like a sore thumb…_

Whatever his business was here, he wasn't fooling anyone with his outfit and shift behavior.

It wasn't long before Fiona swiveled out of her seat and sauntered over to him. Marcus could only barely make out her ask, "this seat taken?" through the wry smile on her face.

 _Wait… what? She knows him?_

The kid had chosen his seat poorly. He couldn't manage to make out single word in their whispered conversation.

 _Maybe I shouldn't be here,_ Marcus finally decided, _I have no idea what's going on._

His only concern was to give Fiona the courtesy of a heads up. Now it looked as if that was less than necessary. When Marcus finally decided to reach for his wallet is when the commotion began. It was the other four men. Each of them were now standing, approaching the booth in the far corner, hands buried in their pockets. Marcus had never even thought to check them for secrets.

 _Were they waiting here all night for her? Or maybe for this other guy?_

It was subtle, the twitch in the fox's ear. Even with her back to them, Marcus suspected she was aware of their presence. Her posture stiffened, and for the first time in minutes her speech was audible again, "Really? This is how you're going to play me?"

The cloaked man put his hands up as if to suggest he had no idea what was going on, but from the look on her face, Fiona wasn't buying it.

"What's this guy to you?" she snarled at the cloaked man. "To any of you?" she turned towards the others.

No one spared any time drawing their guns and pointing them in the fox's direction.

"Damn it," the gruff man from behind the counter muttered under his breath, "not again."

"This happen a lot?" Marcus joked.

"More than you would know," he sighed before retreating to the kitchen.

"Look, fellas," Fiona began, "I'm thinking some of you are new and maybe you're not too aware of who I am, and more importantly who I represent."

No one budged.

"Are we going to have to do this the hard way?"

The fox was a magician of sorts. She had people looking one way while she was moving another. Marcus, even with his better vantage point had never seen her remove the pistol from her waistband. By the time anyone else realized anything had happened, two of the four men were on the ground screaming in pain.

 _Damn, she's a badass,_ Marcus concluded.

When the other two went to return fire, they had trouble zeroing in on their target that had been sitting only a moment prior. Fiona had capitalized on their concern for their friends, leaping from her seat and planting her boot firmly into the nearest man's face. He spun around twice before hitting the restaurant floor unconscious, his gun tumbling out of his hand, sliding across the floor before arriving at Marcus' feet.

His mind raced with questions about what he should do next. Thankfully, Fiona was already in the process of taking the fourth man out of the fight with a bullet to his left knee cap.

"I told you all," the vixen sighed as she walked between the men kicking away their guns as they lay there bleeding between heavy breaths. "And quit your wining, you're all fine, just a little worse for wear."

Approaching one of the first two that she had shot, the fox placed her boot on the man's injured shoulder, "Where is he?"

"I don't know shit," he responded, wincing through the pain as she pressed down harder.

"Of course, you don't," Fiona frowned as she turned towards the next man.

Marcus was curious about this person she was looking for, but he was even more curious about the cloaked figure. The man had sat their silently through everything. However, he had since buried his hands in his pocket. When the vixen turned her back to him as she approached the third man, he produced his own gun.

 _Coward,_ Marcus thought as he contemplated the type of man that would shoot someone in the back.

At some point in his internal monologue he must have picked up the pistol at his feet, because he was now staring down it as he trained the sights on the man just over Fiona's shoulder. The look on her face was one of concern, and if he didn't know better betrayal. It wasn't until he pulled the trigger that she understood.

"Not bad, kid," she lamented looking over her shoulder.

The cloaked man was wriggling, holding a hand to his stomach. Fiona reached into the booth and pulled the man out by his collar.

"Why did you have to go and do something stupid?" she asked, tossing away his gun.

The distant wail of sirens caused the vixen's ears to twitch again.

"Gary!" she called out.

"What?" he answered angrily from the kitchen.

"You know damn well what."

"How many times have I told you not use my establishment for your charades."

"You're no fun, Gary!" the fox shouted back at him before tossing the man to the ground.

"Come on, kid," Fiona began as she made her way towards the door, "we need to get out of here."

That much was true, but then again, she didn't need his help to disappear. As soon as she walked out the door the fox's silhouette vanished into the crimson light.

 _How in the…_

Ignoring her illusions, the kid turned back towards his still warm cup of coffee, "Hey, uh, Gary?"

The same brusque man as before appeared, all be it somewhat timidly.

"Any chance I could get a to-go cup for this?"

Reluctantly, the man reached under the counter and produced a small foam cup with a lid.

"Thanks," the kid replied before switching his coffee into the new container.

The sirens were growing louder now, just a couple of blocks away. Before swiveling himself off the bar chair, Marcus took a loud sip from his poor excuse for a mug.

"Maybe next time you guys will run when you a red shadow?" Marcus suggested as he too made his way to the door. The fox was something else altogether. Something people should rightly be afraid of. "Just a thought anyway," the kid shrugged as the bell above his head jingled the sound of his exit.


	3. Left Hanging

Of course, the fox was nowhere to be found when the police rolled up. He had just shot, and possibly killed someone his first night on the job, and the one person who could probably help him was long gone. Marcus tried to keep his nerves calm, but it was hard to forget he had just jumped head first into the underbelly of the city. The kid had never fancied himself a punk, but he tended to go where the wind blew him.

 _This type of thing is bound to happen, right?_

However, mistake or not, it didn't fix the problem.

 _I just sacrificed my life for a Mobian's… my parents are going to laugh themselves into their graves. I didn't owe Fiona anything._

The kid tried to pretend the sudden and sharp tapping sound didn't startle him. Breathing deeply, Marcus rolled down the window with just a subtle amount of annoyance, "yes, officer?"

At the very least he knew to play the part. If he was going to be a wise guy, he needed to act it, and thankfully he could still lie when the moment called for it.

"Oh, sorry, I was expecting someone else?" the man responded as if he had decided to doubt himself at the last moment.

"Let me guess, Harry?"

"Yeah," the copper responded.

"He got let go. I'm his replacement."

"I see... Well seeing as you're here and all, may I ask… uhh… what are you doing here anyway?"

"Grabbing a coffee," Marcus replied before hoisting his cup, "Job start in an hour."

The man scribbled something on a small notebook.

"Any chance you know what happened in there?"

 _Well this was easier than I expected._

As far as he could tell it was his word against four lowlifes. If there was ever a time to tell a tall tale, it was now.

"Yeah, some guy in a trench coat wondered in there. About two minutes after that everything went to shit."

The officered nodded as he jotted everything down, "Thanks, that will help tremendously. Give the boss my regards."

Marcus leaned out the window trying to read the man's badge, "Simmons?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll tell him you said hi."

With a smile, the man walked away.

The kid breathed a large, audible sigh of relief as he rolled up the window.

"I guess I know two new things about you," a voice rose up from the back seat, again sending a shiver down his spine. "You're a decent shot and a good liar."

"Stop doing that," he demanded as he stared at her glowing eyes through the rear-view mirror.

"Doing what?"

"You know damn well what," he replied before bringing his lips back to the foam cup and taking a sip.

"Relax," the fox said in a soothing tone, "as long as the guy doesn't die they're not going to look into this too hard. Your word, hell, maybe even mine, is as good as law to a lot of these coppers."

"Another one of the perks?"

Fiona's grin cropped up again, he canines gleaming in the moonlight, "Yeah, one of the few. I told you, they fear us almost as much as they fear him. Coming after us isn't much different than going after him."

"Us?" Marcus raised an eyebrow, trying to understand if the fox had purposefully lumped him in so closely with herself.

"Don't delude yourself. We're nothing special to Ixis, but we are his, and he is rather selfish when it comes to his things. And before you ask, no he doesn't care about all his employees like this, just the ones who don't disappoint him."

"So, enjoy it while I can then?"

"That's what I tell myself."

For the first time in hours Marcus felt the need to laugh. It was nothing she said, it was just the absurdity of everything. Fiona seemed equally amused, and the sly smirk that crept up her ridged jaw suggested that she understood.

Still chuckling, he decided to start the car and pull away from what could only be described as a crime scene. The more distance he put between him and it, the more at ease his nerves felt. His conscience, however, was something else.

Glancing at the fox, Marcus wasn't surprised to find her gaze and attention elsewhere.

He wanted to ask her how he should be feeling, if he should be worried.

Instead, the kid blurted out, "So what's your story."

The vixen's glance shifted his way slowly, "don't confuse me with a customer," she replied, her subtle grin turning to a scowl.

"You're paying for this ride, aren't you?"

Her eyes narrowed until they resembled the points of daggers, not so different from the canines that hung over her lips.

"What difference does my story make? You're some well off country boy that found his way into the city. My story is nothing of consequence compared to the kid who gave up a life where he had everything in favor of a playing a very real version of cops and robbers."

"Hey!" he stammered. "I didn't choose this, it chose me."

Fate had put in him the alley at just the right moment. However, that still didn't explain how she seemed to know so much about him.

 _She's far too perceptive to be trusted._

"Funny how that works," the vixen grinned, "isn't it?"

"What?"

"Our complete lack of choices in this world."

"I wake up every day and make choices," he retorted.

"So then why are you driving a Mobian around at five in the morning?"

For that, he didn't have an answer. To the casual passerby this was a mildly humorous joke, or it would have been had the windows not been tinted to such a degree.

"Well," he hesitated, "what about you?"

"What about me?" the Vixen snorted.

"Why be here, why not run away and join the resistance?"

"You think that's the only option for someone like me? I'm a Mobian who knows her way around hurting people, so I should be part of the resistance?"

"Seems like the most logical choice to me."

"I just got done telling you there aren't choices and you're going to sit here and tell me I've made the wrong one."

Marcus mulled it over for a moment before nodding his head, "Yup, but then again the Resistance already has one famous fox, so I guess there might not be room for another."

Fiona laughed, "is that all I am to you?"

His face wasn't hiding his confusion, "What?"

"A fox," she spat. "That's all you see, some huli jing."

 _Wait did I offend her. She is a fox isn't she?_

"A huli-what?"

There was a streak of red as vixen leapt from the back to the seat next to him. Her eyes were locked onto him, her gaze more intrigued than menacing.

"Maybe I misjudged you," she continued without averting her eyes.

 _I'm missing something. What did I say?_

"I don't understand."

"We've established that."

"Did I offend you?" the kid asked, trepidation laced throughout his voice.

"Pull over here," the fox asked quietly.

It was still plenty early enough to find street parking.

"Look over there," Fiona motioned across the street. "What do you see?"

 _Is this some kind of test?_

"Some guy out for a morning walk."

"Alright, and what about next to you, what do you see?"

Marcus half expected her to be gone when he turned his head but was equally surprised to find the vulpine's eyes once again uncomfortably close to his.

After hesitating for a moment, "a f…" but he caught himself.

She wanted to be seen as more than what she appeared to be. To be afforded the same general anonymity as the guy on the street, to blend in and be just some stranger with no adjectives attached. Fiona wanted to transcend the ruby fur that condemned her to a lower status in life.

The kid smiled, "a friend."

Without taking her eye off of him, the fox reached for the handle, "not bad."

 _He took that as a sign that he had passed._

Before she climbed out of the car, he called after her, "Fiona."

She did little more than unfold an ear just enough to listen.

"As crazy as this night was, I think I might have had fun."

He could see a devilish smile creep its way up her muzzle. But all it took was a blink and the fox was gone.

 _Way to leave me hanging…_

The kid had been hoping for some type of acknowledgement, but the vixen was resigned to being mysterious.

 _There's always next time I suppose,_ he laughed at himself.


	4. Expectations

"Excellent, my boy," the man said in his cool-natured accent as he approached the car, "I knew I could count on you."

It turns out it wasn't difficult to show up for an early morning job if you never went to sleep, not that Marcus wanted to make a habit out of it.

"I even took a peek out my window when I got up, you've been here for over an hour," Ixis continued as he slid past the open door and into the waiting plush leather seats in the back of his car.

After he had dropped Fiona off, there wasn't much to do besides wait. This day would take its toll on him, but all that could wait. There was no denying that disappointing Mr. Nagus was not an option. Marcus took a deep breath as he rounded the front of the car and found his way back to the driver seat.

"Although," the man began almost immediately, "we're going to have to do something about your attire."

It hadn't occurred to him to at least make an attempt to find a change of clothes.

"Have you even changed? Showered?" his new employer pressed him.

Lying didn't seem like a good option.

"No," Marcus shook his head. "I'm crashing at a friend's place clear across town. After I got done helping Fiona, I wouldn't have been able to go home and make it back here in time."

Ixis nodded in agreement as he put the car in drive and pulled out into the morning traffic.

"What funny business did you get up to with that fox?"

"She told me she needed a ride," Marcus hesitated, not wanting to betray the Fiona's trust.

"And you agreed?" Naugus asked in a tone that suggested he was neither angry nor pleased.

"Well I wasn't exactly sure if I could tell her no since she works for you."

The man's chuckles helped him relax, but only a little.

"Sometimes I think she's too smart for her own good," Ixis laughed. "She saw an opportunity and capitalized, just like I taught her."

"Should I not have done that?"

"You're fine, my boy. Although I shouldn't have to spell out that you're my driver not hers. However, the car is free to use on your time, and if giving rides to that little hellion is what you want to do with it, then by all means. Fiona obviously saw that you might not know any better and took advantage of the situation."

Marcus sighed, "I should have known."

Ixis shrugged, "You played it safe, sometimes that's the best move. But if you don't mind me asking, where did you take her?"

"The diner on fourth."

His laugh returned, "She made you take her to breakfast?"

"That's what I thought at first," he confessed.

"I see."

Marcus half expected the man to press him further on the subject, but it seems he had already said enough for him to put together the rest.

"Should I be worried about her, sir?"

"Did you do anything to piss her off?"

"I don't think so."

"Then I doubt it. Fiona is a surprisingly gentle creature, but don't tell her I said that. She's unusually quick to break bones, but at the end of the day her heart is still too big for this line of work."

"After last night, gentle would be the last thing I would describe her as."

"Like I said, quick to break bones, but she won't hurt anyone unless she has to, unlike me. I'll hurt people for looking at me the wrong way."

Marcus quickly removed his gaze from the review mirror and focused as intently as his mind would allow on the road in front of him.

"You've got nothing to worry about," he added. "Or at least I don't think you do."

He did his best to put on a grin, but it was harder than he expected.

"Although, we probably should go over a few more ground rules I suppose."

"Okay," Marcus readily agreed.

"I call, you come. Rain, shine, or broken leg. There's no excuse I haven't heard, and there is far fewer that will work."

Fiona had made that much seem obvious. Ixis was a man who got what he wanted, when he wanted it.

"After you drop me off, you're going to go to Bernard's on 42nd. Have you heard of it?"

"No."

He was still getting to know his way around the city. 42nd was in a part of town that catered to people with a lot more money than he would likely ever have, so he had written it off early on.

"He's the best tailor in town. If I'm to be seen with you, I need you to look the part. He'll take care of everything, all you need to do is show up."

"Okay," Marcus acknowledged with some hesitation.

This was getting more serious by the minute. Last night had been one thing, but now it felt as if he had signed some type of invisible blood contract.

"After that I want you to go home and get your things. I've made arrangements for you. It's nothing special," Nagus insisted while pushing a key across the armrest, "but it's something to call your own."

He felt the need to gulp, tailored suits had been one thing. A piece of property was something else. Cautiously, Marcus reached over and pocketed the key.

"It's on the top floor in the building across from the Barn Yard. You know where that is, right?"

He nodded slowly as he pulled into a parking space in front of Ixis' hotel. That part of town he was familiar with. It catered to anyone brave enough to walk its streets.

"Thank you, sir."

"No need to thank me. These are the perks that come with the job."

Marcus removed himself from the driver seat and made his way around to the passenger door.

"Sir, have a nice day."

The man's composure was ice cold, bordering on stone that had the luxury of movement.

"Any questions? Now is the time."

He had a half dozen at least, but was too scared to ask them. It seemed obvious that he was trading his life for this job. Part of him wanted to ask if there was still time to back out. The other part of him, however, knew better. Life would occasionally grace you with opportunities, passing them up out of fear was unwise to say the least. But there was still one question he felt scraping at the back of his mind.

"What's a Huli Jing?" his sleep addled brain managed to inquire. Marcus had been wondering since Fiona had brought it up earlier in the morning.

Ixis's eyebrows furrowed in opposite directions, unsure of what to make of his request. Slowly the man began to chuckle before breaking down into a downright laughing fit. Without responding the man walked up the steps and into his office, snickering to himself to whole way.

 _Well that went about as well as could be expected,_ the kid concluded silently to himself.

Driving, as it turns out, wasn't always fun. He had moved to the city with hardly a penny to his name and subsequently resorted to moving around the city on foot or by way of train. Having a car was as expensive as it was pointless. Rush hour traffic brought the streets to a standstill, and what might be a twenty-minute walk turned into a thirty-minute drive.

The tailor was in a non-descript building that hardly fit in amongst the other more well-known brands who plastered their names across their storefronts in bright neon letters. A bell rung above the door as he stepped into the tiny shop. It had an eerily sterile feel, and the plush red velvet carpet that lined the floor ominous to say the least. A mildly overweight middle-aged man appeared by his side without so much as a word.

"Hi," Marcus said doing his best to hide his startled appearance. "You must be Bernard?"

The man did little more than grunt in response before pointing to a mirror at the back of the sore.

Weaving in and out of the mannequins and displays, the kid admired some of the finer handy work. Pick stitching laced some of the highest quality fabric he had ever felt or seen. To top it off each and every garment had a quintessential mobster look to it.

"Mr. Naugus sent me," he added, unsure of what was happening.

The man did little more than roll his eyes before positioning him in front of the trifold mirror. For the first time in the better part of a day, Marcus to got to take in just how much his appearance had degraded.

Shaking his head, Bernard muttered under his breath, "Where does he find them… dogs off the street."

"The other one is a fox," he felt the need to point out.

"I'm all too aware," the man lamented as he retrieved the measuring tape that had been draped around his neck. "Had anyone else come to me and told me to find her suitable clothes, I would have laughed at them until I was blue in the face. Ixis, however, is not a man you say no to."

"People keep saying that," Marcus noted to himself, albeit aloud.

"Well it keeps being true," Bernard replied before tugging on his arm, measuring from the back of his neck down to the tip of his finger.

He repeated some variation of that process at nauseum with little regard to his personal space. Everything from his calf circumference to the inner seam of his thigh seemed to be important. Finally the man produced a notebook, transcribing what must of haven at least two dozen measurements onto paper from his memory.

"And how do you typically dress?"

"Uhh with clothes… in the morning, or well most of the time anyway."

Bernard sneered at him before defiantly requesting, "to the left or the right?"

"I'm right handed."

With a sigh, the man gave him an odd look from the floor to the top of his head be scribbling something else down.

"You can put your arms down now," the man sighed. "And do us both a favor and get lost before you scare off any of my customers."

Marcus had no problem with leaving. The store was oddly musty smelling, and floor felt like all the wrong kinds of cushy. He wasn't meant to be in a place like this, or not yet anyway.

"Thanks," the kid replied before he made his way back outside.

It was already half past noon and he still had to retrieve his personal effects from his friend's house. Thankfully, however, with the morning traffic gone he would likely be able to make it across town and back in time to pick up Ixis.

He made sure to drive briskly, clearing three blocks at a time before being inevitably snared by a light or some unexpected congestion. There was also little denying that the house he had been living in actually belonged to his friend's grandmother. They were both freeloaders. Although, one more than the other. His parents would have called this acquittance a bad influence, and they probably would have been right.

Ed was the best kind of friend and the worst kind of role model. He had zero ambition and it showed. He changed jobs like most people did clothes, staying at one gig just long enough to make a paycheck before getting bored and retreating to his spot in the attic. Marcus had run into him his first weekend in the city and had become inseparable since. They each had a penitent for partying hard and relaxing harder.

"Mrs. Felder," he exclaimed walking in the front door, "how are you?"

The elderly woman smiled sweetly back at him, "Marcus, I was worried you had left without saying goodbye."

"Never," he replied before planting a gentle kiss on her cheek.

The woman was beyond sweet and he owed her and Ed both a debt. She had taken to him as well, calling him a 'well-mannered a polite young man'.

"Ed is upstairs where he usually is. Will you be staying for dinner?"

"Not today, I'm afraid. I finally found a decent job," he proclaimed with a smile.

"Splendid dear. You will have to tell me all about it."

"There's not too much to it I suppose. I'm a limo driver for some rich guy."

"Ahh, that does sound promising. Is he a nice man?"

"I don't think so," Marcus replied with a hint of disappointment.

"The rich ones never are," she agreed with a shake of her head, "but a job is a job."

"It is," he agreed.

"I was just swinging by to pick up a few of my things. I might be gone a little longer than normal."

"Don't be a stranger, dear," Mrs. Felder called after him as he bound up the first set of steps.

Ed, as his grandmother promised, was exactly where he expected to find him, sprawled out on the couch playing video games on a tv that was well past its prime.

"Where the hell have you been," his friend inquired without moving an eye from the screen.

"Got myself a job," Marcus answered as he stuffed as many of his clothes as he could find into a backpack.

"I thought you had one of those already."

"No, I mean like a real job, one that pays more than a couple of bucks an hour and has real benefits."

"Who would hire you?" Ed laughed.

"You ever hear of a guy names Ixis Naugus?"

"Yeah, of course, everyone has."

"I'm his new driver."

Ed nearly doubled over in laughter, "that's a good one, man. That's a good one."

"No seriously, I am."

Still laughing, his friend was reluctant to believe him, "do you have any idea how dangerous he is? No one in their right mind would work for him."

"Yeah… people keep telling me that."

Ed hit pause and looked up for the first time, "wait you're seriously working for him?"

"Well yeah, I mean it's a job, better than washing dishes, you know?"

"No, I don't think you get it. That guy doesn't screw around man. He's broken people's legs just for looking at him funny."

 _Oh… he wasn't kidding when he said that…_ Although Marcus had never thought that he had been.

"I mean I wouldn't he have been arrested by now if that were true?"

"He owns most of the cops in this city. When people say crime doesn't pay, well, they haven't met Ixis. He's untouchable, ruthless. I'm telling you, man, it's a mistake."

"I'm not sure I have a choice anymore."

"Then let me help you pack," Ed replied as he put down the controller.

"What?"

"You need to leave. I can't have you around here anymore, hell I don't even want to be seen with you, so the sooner you can get your crap packed up and leave, the better."

"Wait, what? Are you serious?"

"Very."

"What gives?"

"I'm all for taking shady jobs, Marcus. It's basically how I make my living. But Ixis is a different story. You may as well have sold your soul."

He was now starting to recall a few of things Fiona had mentioned to him his first night on the job. She had promised him that his friends and family would look at him differently _. When they look at you, they'll see him_ , she had assured him.

"You see him, don't you? When you look at me?"

"It's hard not to. You didn't grow up around here, you don't know his reputation. Hell, you don't know what he's done to this family."

With a backpack over his shoulder and a duffel in his hand, Ed was nearly pushing him down the steps.

"I'm sorry," Marcus tried pleading with him.

"Nothing to apologize about, "you choose him."

"I didn't mean to. I didn't know I was making a choice."

"But you did, and that's… well that's that."

"I'll see you around maybe?" he asked Ed, but instead the kid he thought was his friend slammed the front door in his face.

 _That's not how I expected that to go,_ Marcus lamented to himself as he stared at the forest green paint on Mrs. Felder's door.


End file.
